


Warmth within

by Kami_del_Antro



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, First Time, Guild Wars 2 Living World, Guild Wars 2 Living World Season 4, M/M, Original Character(s), Sylvari (Guild Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:28:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28870065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kami_del_Antro/pseuds/Kami_del_Antro
Summary: As war gives way to peace, the calm makes way for the storm. Such is the nature of balance, such are the teachings of Koda. But Naoise can't think about balance when Arlen is close. There's no room for anything aside from blind desire.Post War Eternal, no spoilers, might be a bit pwp. Original universe Arlen/Naoise.
Relationships: Arlen/Naoise





	Warmth within

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RenVal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenVal/gifts).



> Back to gw2 for a brief moment.
> 
> I had this one on the back of my head for a while now. I owed it to Ren tbh. Naoise is theirs.

The cold of the northern Shiverpeaks invited him to meditate, but Naoise’s head was full of a merciful mist. He gasped, and Arlen tensed, and he tensed as well, swallowing a whine that seemed to sprout from his very soul. Instead, he decided to beg for Arlen’s lips, and he obliged; if it was to shut him up or to ease a similar kind of yearning, Naoise had no way of telling.

What he did know was that Arlen’s kisses had the impact of the noon sun over a sheet of ice, and he was melting into a deeper embrace.

He pulled on the cord of his linen under armour, exposing the soft, pink skin underneath, and he trembled when he felt Arlen’s warm hand on his chest. Immobile, burning, taunting. He arched like a cat on the floor, begging for attention. For a firmer, less ethereal contact. So when Arlen’s hand pushed down, Naoise obeyed, petals sprawled on the floor mat and breathing ravaged from the ecstasy.

He wouldn’t climb on top, but Naoise imagined the phantom weight on his own hips, the unbearable warmth on his skin, perhaps even the gift of a hardness pressed against his belly. Naoise had seen Arlen’s cock before. He had kissed it, licked it. He knew its shapes, its color, its smell, its taste. To remember was a torture and a blessing, sending ripples down his spine, and a wave of pleasure on his own, throbbing dick.

But Arlen had much more restraint than him. He simply kissed him again, looming over him but not straddling, giving him a taste of paradise but not the keys to its door. Another, muffled sound left them both cold, but less cold than before.

Arlen’s hand moved - more exploratory than sensual. Naoise had figured he had a thing for the textures of his vegetable skin; the soft mounds of his pectorals, the downward slope of his strong abdomen, the rippling nooks on the base of his neck. Always curious, and soft, and trying not to make him think of his hand going lower and lower, below the line of his pants, making Naoise lose his mind.

No. Arlen would only leave him close, oh so close from losing his mind.

He was so damn composed, and Naoise thought that he was supposed to be the calm one. The one with a heavy task at hand. The heir of an impossible wish. But when the fever of desire struck into his heart, he was only a wild, human teen, with wild, human loins. Unlike Arlen, after their quick touch session he wouldn’t have the headspace to ponder about Kodan riddles. He would only think of letting himself be undone, melted by his gorgeous companion, rather than the bird scratching the surface of an iceberg. _What was a bird good for when the sun shines on you_ , he pondered. It was true than the Kodan sanctuaries were not meant to fuck like wild animals.

_Like animals_ . He may not get to do it, but Naoise could very well imagine it. He had done it before; in restless nights, when he and Arlen slept together without even glancing at each other. The sudden release from his clothes; Arlen’s warm, firm hands on the base of his thighs, right as they connect to his butt; one long, deep thrust inside, and the grunt that would follow. And his own, desperate plea to _please, please, please by the Mother, by my Wyld Hunt, do not stop, do not ever stop_.

Naoise moaned, then inhaled sharply as both him and Arlen broke the kiss. What he saw on Arlen’s eyes was beyond words; a wildfire wouldn’t make it justice. Naoise knew, felt his desire burning into his eyes, scorching everything in its wake. Why wouldn’t he just take him? Why torture him like this?

“You alright?” he mumbled; thunderous, low, husky. He wanted him too. Why not just get it over with?

There was worry in his eyes. And through a haze of desire, Naoise blinked, and saw clearly the shadow of a doubt. Because as much as Naoise felt Arlen’s desire, Arlen wasn’t sure in turn about Naoise. He would have to be very clear.

“Would you fuck me?” he gasped, then blushed bright pink in the shade of their shared tent. “Please.”

Arlen blinked, seemingly taken aback, and Naoise feared he had been a little bit too direct. Up until he noticed that the red glow on his thorns wasn’t an illusion. He was blushing too.

“You sure?” he asked once more; fingers curling over Naoise’s chest.

“Yes,” he whispered; eyes bright with unbound desire. Arlen nodded.

“Aight.”

He helped Naoise sit up, getting rid of his under armour, leaving him half-naked, blushing in the dark of their safe haven. Then, Arlen grabbed the waist of his pants, pulling them down with trembling, yet firm hands, in one fluid movement. It was alluring, seeing him taking so many steps instead of dragging Naoise to the depths of burning desire. And for a second, Naoise worried that he was pushing him into a situation he didn’t want to be in.

Arlen glanced at him, kneeling over his skinny, yet strong body, and frowned. Naoise bit his lip, for he most definitely had felt his unease. He could be so oblivious sometimes, and so damn perceptive other times.

“I’m fine,” he assured him, with a smile. “You?”

Arlen shrugged, but then dropped his shoulders with a heavy breath. Then, he removed the black, cotton shirt he wore under his heavy leather coat. His rippling abs made Naoise’s mouth water. He was dying to have a taste.

“Wait,” Naoise suddenly muttered, heavy and breathy when Arlen held onto his belt. “Let me do it.”

Arlen froze in place, eyes slightly too wide, but nodded and lay down on his back. Naoise, feeling suddenly very clumsy, knelt between Arlen’s legs, rejoicing in the contemplation of his strong, toned body.

With trembling hands, Naoise undid the belt and pulled on the string that kept Arlen’s pants in place, pulling them down. Arlen arched his back with a low grunt, and the sinuous movement made Naoise’s fantasies run wild. He was rough; scarred beyond belief, strong, stoic. And yet there was a quiet tenderness in how he lay down, allowing Naoise to pull his clothes off.

The thick, black leather pants clung to Arlen’s feet for a brief second before letting go. And Naoise licked his lips, breathing ravaged, mind reeling as his desire bubbled up once more. And Arlen hadn’t even touched him yet.

He had to-... No. He needed it. So Naoise knelt down as if begging, giving Arlen's cock a long, burning lick, from the base to the tip.

Arlen grunted, and held onto Naoise's petals with a little too much eagerness. He was so close from losing it. So close from breaking, and joining him in the depths of desire. And so Naoise tried to put him in his mouth, forcing the sensitive walls of his throat to accommodate Arlen's hardness, eyes watering, hand clutching his own dick.

"Hey," Arlen suddenly said, grabbing Naoise's chin with careful fingers.

Naoise raised his eyes towards him, and let him go with a droplet of drool hanging from his tongue to the tip of Arlen's dick. Arlen swallowed in turn.

"That's alright," he stated. Naoise felt a sudden lash of pride, despite being in such a vulnerable position.

"Why," he asked. "Is it bad?"

He held his glance in defiance. Arlen looked down.

"No," he stated. Naoise sat back on his heels.

"Then why do you want me to stop?" he almost pleaded. Arlen blinked, then looked back at him.

"You wanted me to fuck you," he explained. Naoise blushed, then nodded. "Then don't make me cum."

"But-..." Naoise said, then dropped his shoulders. "Ok."

He just wanted to see Arlen at his limit, just like he was. But he was still in control; serious, as if this was one of his missions. He couldn't understand it.

"Lay down," Arlen ordered. After a brief hesitation, Naoise did as asked. "Gotta do something first."

As soon as Naoise was snuggled between pelts over their shared mat, Arlen reached out with his hand, lightly caressing Naoise's balls. He inhaled sharply, pressing his legs together until Arlen slid a hand between them, gently spreading them apart.

He couldn't handle it anymore. Naoise moaned between clenched teeth, arching once again under Arlen's touch. But Arlen stopped, making him look up through wet eyelashes.

"Shh," Arlen hushed him, reaching lower, behind Naoise's balls. Naoise inhaled once again, letting the air out in a hiss.

Then Arlen licked his fingers, caressing lower, deeper. And Naoise bit his own fingers, holding onto his own jaw as if it was the only stable thing on a world that was melting away, leaving him raw.

The pressure gave way of Arlen's fingers inside, and he tensed up until he hushed again, gently caressing Naoise's cheek with his free hand. And when Naoise peeked once more through his eyelashes, he saw Arlen's eyes, bright as he huffed. He seemed troubled. Fixed on his expression.

Then, his index coiled inside, rubbing and exploring. And Naoise had to cover his own mouth, trembling in ecstacy.

He had done it before. By himself - mind blank, going through the motions. Just to know how it felt. But sometimes his fantasies were lively, warm. Asphyxiating. When his mind conjured Arlen's stoic face looming over him, when he pictured his expert fingers finding the ways of his own pleasure. But even his wildest fantasies didn't hold a candle to Arlen's quiet patience, to the contrast between how he moved, and how he _stared._ Arlen didn't like eye contact; Naoise knew as much. But now, as he became undone, Arlen seemed unable to look away.

"Arlen," he whined; a soft, shrill beg. Arlen caressed his thighs, raising his knees, going deeper.

Suddenly, Naoise found himself moving - hips rolling, attempting to make the contact stronger. He never thought himself able to be so needy, to be quite frank. But now it seemed natural; expected, even. There wasn't any other way to be when the pleasure was so sweet.

Then Arlen caressed his cock, and Naoise threw his head back, trembling as his mouth hanged open, and everything else was useless, superfluous. Nothing was as important as the fact that he needed to cum, and he needed it _now._ If he didn't, he would die - he was sure of it. No one could survive such a sweet attack on the senses, such a delicious torture.

Except, there was one thing. Naoise opened his eyes, still arched, sanity hanging from a thread, but hanging all the same. The pleasure built up, and yet he managed to get a hold of Arlen's hand; the one wrapped around his dick. The caresses stopped, the pleasure dulled, and Arlen seemed confused sitting between his legs. Naoise swallowed hard.

"I…" he babbled, still reeling. "I want you… Us… I don't wanna do it alone."

Arlen blinked, then looked down at where Naoise held on to him. Then nodded, somewhat clumsy.

"Sure," he mumbled, but Naoise pulled from his wrist once more.

"Lay down," he instructed, more bravely than he felt. "I want to do it."

Once again, Arlen blinked. And if Naoise didn't know him enough, he would've missed the bright, red blush radiating from the thorns on his face.

"Okay," Arlen replied then, laying down once more.

Naoise climbed on top, resting as he straddled the sylvari he had dreamt for so long to have. He wanted them to cum together. He wanted them to melt in each other's embrace. Like he had imagined so many times before, he wanted to feel Arlen becoming undone, to see him as he had his release… Inside of him. Because Arlen knew of selfish, cruel pleasure, he knew of domination and ecstasy. But what Naoise wanted to give him was love. Anyone could have sex; he wanted to _make love._

He wanted to be what Morrissey had never been.

And so he knelt up, holding onto Arlen's cock, and guiding it to where he could feel the absence of his lover's fingers. Arlen held onto his hips, but instead of thrusting in, he held Naoise up in the air. Pushing, but not entering.

"Slow," he instructed. As his face lit up in pink, feeling the tease on his ass, Naoise quickly nodded.

The push was agonizingly slow, and surprisingly wet. The sound was obscene, and Naoise's mind reeled with explanations about the Mother's gifts and how it let Her children enjoy the decadent pleasures of the human body - with some advantages. But soon it all dissolved into nothing as Arlen fit inside him, pushing deeper, and deeper, and hotter, and so much inside.

It felt endless. Every time Naoise thought he couldn't possibly enter any more of Arlen, his own body made way with delight. It was _so much_ , at the edge of _too much_ , but never quite getting there. It was frustrating in a way. Would he be able to be satisfied? What would he do if he was never able to settle down and let himself get lost in the pleasure?

"Hey," Arlen grunted. Naoise glanced at him through half-closed lids, finding him agitated. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Naoise whined, surprised by the tremble in his voice, and in his body. It felt dangerous - an unstable material about to blow up.

"Want me to move?"

Naoise shook his head no.

"Aight." Arlen swallowed hard, and Naoise contemplated his throat moving with fixed eyes. "Take your time."

The feeling was overwhelming. Naoise was used to outside thoughts - by the Dream, by other sylvari, by his own, ever-changing train of thought. But beside Arlen there was always blessed silence. He was a Soundless, after all. He couldn't _feel_ Arlen the way he could with every being connected to the Dream.

Except now. Connected in the most physically intimate way possible, Naoise could _feel_ him like never before. The intensity burned. The desire crashed like waves. Arlen wanted this as badly as him - he was just more calm, more reserved about it. But the tremble on his hands on Naoise's hips, the strain on the muscles of his arms, spoke louder than any empathic bond between them.

Slowly, tentatively, Naoise moved his hips; up, then down. Arlen parted his lips, letting out a gasp, as Naoise held onto his shoulders. It burned inside. It burned so well.

So he did it again, as Arlen helped him out with his strong arms. And again, and again, and again until he was too far gone to keep count. Moving in the exact way to make them both lose it was tricky, but the successful thrusts were bright stars on Naoise's mind; the pleasure awakening places he didn't know could feel in such a way.

He hummed, purred as he moved, and Arlen's hands became clasps at each side, clawing at the soft bark of his hips. Between his eyelashes Naoise saw Arlen frown, bite his lip, and grunt as he focused on the point where their bodies connected - every tendon in his gorgeous body tense like the string of a bow. Waiting to release a deadly blow.

"Move with me," he pleaded in a whisper. And Arlen obliged, meeting Naoise in the air, going deeper with each thrust.

Naoise bit his lip, moaning as they found a rhythm they could both follow; slow, tortuous, but deep and hot. Sometimes Naoise could hear the delicious clash of Arlen's hips with his ass, and moaned in harmony with the sound.

Everytime Naoise felt close, a tremble made him lose rhythm, and he groaned in frustration as his dick leaked - heavy, clear liquid leaving bright droplets on Arlen's abs each time he jumped. And, as he figured what was going on, Arlen held his hips up, thrusting in with fast-paced pumps.

Naoise tried to call out his name, but couldn't. Just trembling moans left his lips, as he buried his short nails on Arlen's shoulders, and his arms collapsed under him. His head kept spinning, and he wasn't even sure if he had just cum or died, or something else. And yet, Arlen sat up carrying his weight, accommodating him sitting on his lap, dick still burning inside.

And he moved Naoise, face buried in his chest, breathing in deeply. Naoise had also found out Arlen didn't moan, but merely grunted; eyes closed, the thorny vines of his hair bouncing with newfound vitality. Naoise hung on for dear life, clinging to Arlen's strong back, as he groaned once more, and spilled his load at last.

For a brief moment, Naoise allowed himself to collapse on Arlen, clinging to him as the world dissolved in blissful darkness. Arlen's arms around him lulled him to drift off, safe in his warm embrace. But soon Arlen bent forwards, securing Naoise with one arm as he lay him down softly, and slowly pulled out of him. And, to Naoise's surprise, let himself rest on top of him.

With his eyes closed, snuggled on his chest, Arlen seemed peaceful. Naoise coiled his fingers on the vines of his head, and found himself thinking that his thorns weren't painful on his fingertips.

"Hey," Arlen murmured, eyes still closed.

"Hey," Naoise replied, a smile pressed on the top of Arlen's head.

"You okay?"

Naoise snickered.

"Yeah," he sighed. "Yeah. I am okay."

More than okay. The bliss he felt was indescribable, in fact.

"You?" he asked, tracing the paths of Arlen's vine-like hair.

He seemed taken aback, eyes suddenly open; a futile scrutiny of the dark all around them. What could he see beyond the island of light that they had become, Naoise couldn't know.

"Yes," he finally muttered, still surprised. "I'm okay too."

It was okay; Arlen in his arms, the ruined pelts below them, the fact Naoise couldn't tell if they had been too noisy because he couldn't recall anything aside their shared love. It was okay.


End file.
